Weeping For Corruption
by BeeUtifulgirl
Summary: This is Reverand Hale's account of the events in Salem.Three-shot.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the Crucible

A/N: This is a diary of the events of The Crucible, written from Reverend Hale's point of view. I had so much fun with this.

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Salem, Massachusetts

Sabbath Day

Day 1

I climb the steps of the Reverend's House, my footsteps echoing hollowly on each stair. From above I hear the muffled sounds of voices, shouting and arguing.

I find this fact pertinent because it has been my experience that conflict, rivalry, and faction within a community are positive signs of the presence of the Devil. And wherever the Devil may be, witchery will surely follow.

I reach the summit of the stairs with some difficulty, owing more to the constriction of excitement in my chest than the ancient and weighty books I carry. I can taste the feeling of anticipation in my mouth, as sweet and new as honey. My breathing is barely controlled, and, as I feel of the coarse covers of my books on my fingers, the warmth in my face, I know that this is sheer excitement. At last, I will be able to do G-d's will in such a way as only I can. I feel a sensation of emptiness behind me, reminding me of the years of study of witchery with which I humbly pride myself. I can almost see before myself the journey I am about to take, the pursuit of fulfilling G-d's word.

I stand before the closed door, breathing in this moment. I can still hear the debate that is going on behind the door, but I wait to enter. I am sure that the Devil has already entered the room, and though I am eager to begin my mission, I pause.

I examine the dark wood of the door, thinking of what I am about to do. The wood is dark, murky colored, just as I know that my experiences here in Salem will be. However, I trust that, with the Almighty at my side, and with His Divine Providence guiding me, I will be able to push aside the dangers as easily as I would open this door. I pray to illuminate the lives of the people of Salem with the L-rd's word. With this whispered prayer in my mouth, I push the old door open. I can feel the wood, which has grown silken with the years, and I pray that my path will be just as smooth.

A silence and the musty smell of the bedroom both greet my entry as I step towards my first humble duty of eradicating the devil in the service of the L-rd.

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So… what'd you think?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own the Crucible

This one's a little different from the first chapter. Enjoy!

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Salem, Massachusetts

Monday Evening

9TH Day

I sighed as I approached my next destination, the Proctor's home, reviewing the events that had transpired since my arrival. Within the space of a week, I have examined nearly forty suspected witches. I felt a surge of pity for the people of Salem, wondering what they must have done to bring the wrath of G-d down on them, and the Devil into their midst.

All too soon, I reached the Proctor's doorway. Inside I was startled to see Mr. Proctor and his wife arguing, but, as I reminded myself, the entire community was in conflict, so why shouldn't these two be, as well. I resisted the notion to say anything of rebuke and merely said, "Good evening."

"Why Mr. Hale! Good evening to you, sir. Come in, come in."John Proctor was shocked to see me, and his wife looked just as surprised.

"I hope I do not startle you," I apologized to Goody Proctor. But she dismissed it with a hasty

"No-no it's only that I heard no horse-"I did not bother to explain that I had come on foot. I was in a hurry, so I endeavored to come to the point as swiftly and yet as delicately as possible.

"You are Goodwife Proctor." Perhaps that would spur things on.

"Aye," Answered her husband, "Elizabeth."

"I hope you're not off to bed yet." I said, considering the late hour.

"No, no. We are not used to visitors after dark but you're welcome here. Will you sit you down sir?" Ah, a kind offer. I wished to keep our meeting on as natural terms as possible, so I accepted, silently asking the L-rd for guidance as I was about to plow through these people's lives.

"I will. Let you sit, Goodwife Proctor."

"Will you drink cider, Mr. Hale?"

"No, it rebels my stomach." Being such a man of the church as I, I was unused to such extravagancies, as I had lived a humble life. Additionally, I did not believe it wise to put _anything_ into my stomach, knowing what task lay ahead of me.

"I have some further traveling yet, tonight. Sit you down, sir. I will not keep you long, but I have some business with you."

"Business of the court?"Proctor asked, almost puzzled

"No- no, I come of my own, without the court's authority." I suddenly found my mouth was dry, and distantly wished that I had accepted the cider. "Hear me," I continued, "I know not if you are aware, but your wife's name is- mentioned in court.

"We know it, sir." Proctor looked strained. "Our Mary Warren told us. We are entirely amazed." I tried to illustrate to them how neutral I was about the whole business, to show them I was not here under any false pretenses.

"I am a stranger here, as you know. And in my ignorance I find it hard to draw a clear opinion of them that come accused before the court. And so this afternoon, and now tonight, I go from house to house-" I debated whether to tell them the next piece of shocking news, and found it best to do so. They would find out soon enough, I thought. "I come now from Rebecca Nurse's house and-"

"Rebecca's charged!" Goody Proctor exclaimed in shock.

"G-d forbid such a one be charged. She is, however- mentioned somewhat," I corrected.

"You will never believe, I hope, that Rebecca trafficked with the Devil." What, was I now to blame for the court's happenings?

"Woman, it is possible." Anything is possible where the Devil is involved, I silently added.

"Surely you cannot think so," Proctor insisted.

"This is a strange time, Mister. No man may longer doubt the powers of the dark are gathered in monstrous attack upon this village. There is too much evidence now to deny it. You will agree, sir?" Or had he been ignoring the events, altogether?

"I- have no knowledge in that line," Proctor said evasively, "But it's hard to think so pious a woman be secretly a Devil's bitch after seventy year of such good prayer."

"Aye. But the Devil is a wily one, you cannot deny it. However she is far from accused, and I know she will not be. I thought, sir, to put some questions as to the Christian character of this house, if you'll permit me." _Tread cautiously_, I told myself, _try not to upset anyone._

"Why, we-have no fear of questions, sir," Proctor assured me.

"Good, then. In the book of record that Mr. Parris keeps, I note that you are rarely in the church on Sabbath Day," I said plainly.

"No, sir you are mistaken." Oh, am I?

"Twenty-six time in seventeen month, sir. I must call that rare. Will you tell me why you are so absent?"

"Mr. Hale," Proctor said angrily, "I never knew I must account to that man for I come to church or stay home. My wife were sick this winter." 'That man'? I had heard of the disagreements between Parris and the community, but I was surprised to see how open Proctor was in his contempt of the Reverend.

"So I am told," I said, electing to keep my thoughts to myself, "But you, Mister, why could you not come alone?"

"I surely did come when I could, and when I could not I prayed in this house."

"Mr. Proctor, your house is not a church; your theology must tell you that," I said, trying to appeal to his sense of logic.

"It does, sir, it does; and it tells me that a minister may pray to G-d without he have golden candlesticks upon the altar."

"What golden candlesticks?" This threw me.

"Since we built the church there were pewter candlesticks upon the altar; Francis Nurse made them, y'know, and a sweeter hand never touched the metal. But Parris came, and for twenty week he preach nothin' but golden candlesticks until he had them." Proctor said, with visible anger. "I labor the earth from dawn to day to blink of night, and I tell you true, when I look to heaven and see my money glaring at his elbows- it hurt my prayer, sir, it hurt my prayer. I think, sometimes, the man dreams cathedrals, not clapboard meetin' houses." Well, this was certainly the first I'd heard about this. But it had nothing to do with Proctor's religious responsibilities.

"And yet, Mister, a Christian on Sabbath Day must be in church." I said, closing the topic and moving on. "Tell me- you have three children?"

"Aye," He answered, "Boys."

"How comes it that only two are baptized?"

"I like it not that Mr. Parris should lay his hand upon my baby," Proctor said fiercely, "I see no light of G-d in that man. I'll not conceal it." This statement, I disapproved of. It went too far.

"I must say it, Mr. Proctor; that is not for you to decide. The man's ordained, therefore the light of G-d is in him."

"What's your suspicion Mr. Hale?" Proctor asked with a weak smile.

"No, no I have no-" I backtracked, trying to return to the light- well, lighter mood of before. I truly suspected nothing.

But Proctor ignored me, saying, "I nailed the roof upon the church, I hung the door-"

"Oh, did you!" I said quickly, attempting to appease him, "That's a good sign, then."

"It may be I have been too quick to bring the man to book," Proctor said, apologetic as well, "but you cannot think we ever desire the destruction of religion. I think that's in your mind, is it not?"

"I- have-" I said uncomfortably, "there is a softness in your record, sir, a softness."

"I think," Goody Proctor spoke up, "Maybe we have been too hard on Mr. Parris. I think so. But sure we have never loved the Devil here."

"Do you know your Commandments, Elizabeth?" I asked, using a testing technique that I had been using on all the others I had examined in the last couple days.

"I surely do." She said confidently, "There be no mark of blame upon my life, Mr. Hale. I am a covenanted Christian woman."

"And you, Mister?"

"I- am sure I do, sir." He did not sound quite as sure to me.

"Let you repeat them, if you will."

"The Commandments." Was he stalling?

"Aye."

"…Thou shalt not kill." One.

"Aye."

"Thou shalt not steal." Two. "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods, nor make unto thee any graven image." Three, four. "Thou shalt not take the name of the L-rd in vain; thou shalt have no other gods before me." He began to falter. "…Thou shalt remember the Sabbath Day and keep it holy. Thou shalt not bear false witness… "I could see he was having trouble remembering." "…Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image."

"You have said that twice, sir."

"…Aye." He was flustered now, trying to remember the last one.

"Adultery, John," His wife said quietly, delicately.

"Aye." Proctor said painfully. "You see, sir, between the two of us we do know them all," He looked almost sheepish. "I think it may be small fault."

"Theology, sir, is a fortress;" I said importantly, "no crack in a fortress may be accounted small." And yet, I felt, Salem seemed to have fractures all through its foundation that were only now beginning to show. I paced the room, trying to make sense of it all. Where did the Proctors fit into the conflicts at hand, though?

"There be no love of Satan in this house, Mister."He answered, defensively. I could see that, while I had arrived at the bare minimum of what I had wanted to find here, I was going to get no further. I was about to head for the door, already dreading the similar scene I was going to meet at my next stop.

"I pray it, I pray it dearly." If only for my own sake. I attempted to reassure them with a smile. "Well, then-I'll bid you good night." I was almost to the door when Goody Proctor's call stopped me.

"Mr. Hale." I turned. "I do think you are suspecting me somewhat? Are you not?"

"Goody Proctor, I do not judge you. My duty is to add what I may to the godly wisdom of the court. I pray you both good health and good fortune. Good night, sir."

"I think you must tell him, John," she said desperately.

"What's that?" This intrigued me.

"Will you tell him?" She said, ignoring me.

"I – I have no witness and cannot prove it, except my word be taken." Proctor hesitated then, "But I know the children's sickness had naught to do with witchcraft.

"Naught to do-"I repeated in wonder.

"Mr. Parris discovered them sportin' in the woods." He explained. "They were startled and took sick."

"Who told you this?"

"…Abigail Williams."

"Abigail!" The very leader of the girls! Was she lying to him saying this? Was he lying to me?

"Aye," he said gravely.

"Abigail Williams told you it had naught o do with witchcraft!" I repeated, trying to gauge the truth in his answer, as well as to express my surprise.

"She told me the day you came, sir." The day it all began…

"Why-why did you keep this?"

"I never knew until tonight that the world had gone daft with this nonsense."

"Nonsense! Mister, I have myself examined Tituba, Sarah Good, and numerous others that have confessed to dealing with the Devil. They have confessed it." Good L-rd, so many had been arrested already, charged with the Devil's work! And perhaps it was all for nothing!

"And why not, if they must hang for denyin' it? There are them that will swear to anything before they'll hang; have you never thought of that?"

"I have- I –I have indeed." And even more so now. Had the courts judged wrongly? But no, that was impossible. The courts were guided by the light of G-d and his messengers, How could they be wrong? This evidence needed to be brought to the courts attention. "And you- would you testify to this in court?"

"I- had not reckoned with goin' into court. But if I must I will." Why had he not thought to bring it forward? This was perjury, holding back such vital information as this! And yet he was still unwilling to take it to the judges.

"Do you falter here?"

"I falter nothing," he assured me, "but I may wonder if my story will be credited in such a court. I do wonder on it, when such a steady-minded minister as you will suspicion such a woman that never lied, and cannot, and all the world knows she cannot! I may falter somewhat, Mister; I am no fool." Wasn't he though, for not stopping the events at their budding stage?

It occurred to me, though, that Proctor did not believe the charges would carry so far as this. Perhaps he felt this was because he did not believe in witches, as I had heard only two days ago.

"Proctor, let you open with me now, for I have a rumor that troubles me. It's said you hold no belief that there may even be witches in the world. Is that true, sir?"

"I know not what I have said, I may have said it. I have wondered if there are witches in the world- although I cannot believe they come among us now."

"Then you do not believe-"

"I have no knowledge of it; the Bible speaks of witches, and I will not deny them." The answer I had expected, but it did not tell me much.

"And you, woman?" I said, turning to his wife.

"I –I cannot believe it.'

"You cannot!" This was inconceivable to me, especially because I had spent years studying witches and other forms of the Devil's trickery.

"Elizabeth, you bewilder him!"

"I cannot think the Devil may own a woman's soul, Mr. Hale, when she keeps an upright way, as I have. I am a good woman, and I know it;" she declared proudly, " and if you believe I may do only good work in the world, and yet be secretly bound to Satan, then I must tell you, sir, I do not believe it."

"But, woman," I said, trying to reason with her, "do you believe there are witches in-"

"If you think I am one, then I say there are none." It left me completely mystified that she would say such a thing.

"You surely do not fly against the Gospel, the Gospel-" I sputtered.

"She believe in the Gospel, every word!" Proctor said quickly, trying to cover his wife's blasphemy.

"Question Abigail Williams about the Gospel, not myself!" she retorted

"She did not mean to doubt the Gospel, sir," John Proctor was saying, "You cannot think it. This be a Christian house, sir, a Christian house." I had a sour taste of what I had found. Denying Gospel? And her husband, trying so desperately to assure me? I was sure something else was a work her, and I began to leave, wanting no part of it.

"G-d keep you both; let the third child be quickly baptized, and go you without fail each Sunday in to Sabbath prayer; and keep a solemn, quiet way among you." I advised, "I think-" I was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Giles Corey, whom I had met on the first day I had arrived. He was closely followed by a second man, Francis Nurse, whom I had seen just before I came to the Proctors.

"John," Corey cried in distress.

"Giles! What's the matter?" Proctor asked, alarmed.

"They take my wife…. And his Rebecca!" Rebecca Nurse?

"Rebecca's in the jail!" Proctor sounded exactly as shocked as I felt

"Aye. Cheever come and take her in his wagon. We've only come from the jail, and they'll not even let us in to see them," Francis said, agonized.

"They've surely gone wild now Mr. Hale!" Goody Proctor cried. Francis turned to me. "Reverend Hale! Can you not speak to the Deputy Governor? I'm sure he mistakes these people-" But I could do nothing; I was no judge, I had no authority to acquit suspects.

"Pray calm yourself, Mr. Nurse," I said, for the look in his eyes was of desperation.

"My wife is the very brick and mortar of the church, Mr. Hale- and Martha Corey, there cannot be a woman closer yet to G-d than Martha," Mr. Nurse pleaded.

"How is Rebecca charged, Mr. Nurse?" I asked, trying to find the facts.

"For murder, she's charged!" Nurse was crazed, mocking the charge. "'For the marvelous and supernatural murder of Goody Putnam's babies.'" He stared hard at me. "What am I to do, Mr. Hale?"

What were any of us to do? "Believe me, Mr. Nurse, if Rebecca be tainted, then nothing's left to stop the whole green world from burning. Let you rest upon the justice of the court; the court will send her home, I know it." They couldn't possibly find a woman as righteous as Rebecca anywhere. I knew not much about Goody Corey, but I was sure she wasn't guilty either.

"You cannot mean she will be tried in court!" Nurse was past distressed now.

" Nurse, though our hearts break, we cannot flinch; these are new times, sir. There is a misty plot afoot so subtle we should be criminal to cling to old respects and ancient friendships. I have seen too many frightful proofs in court- the Devil is alive in Salem, and we dare no quail to follow wherever the accusing finger points!" There were very few people one could trust anymore, it seemed. With the Devil amongst the community, I feared very few would come out unscathed.

"How may such a woman murder children?" Francis cried.

"Man, remember, until an hour before the Devil fell, G-d thought him to be beautiful in Heaven." In such devious times, no one was above suspicion.

"I never said my wife were a witch, Mr. Hale; I only said she were reading books!" Was it only I who heard the accusation in his words? Facts, facts were what I needed.

"Mr. Corey, exactly what complaint were made on your wife?"

"That bloody mongrel Walcott charged her," He growled furiously. "Y'see, he buy a pig of my wife four or five year ago, and the pig died soon after. So he come dancin' in for his money back. So my Martha, she says to him, 'Walcott, if you haven't the wit to feed a pig properly, you'll not live to own many,' she says. Now he goes to court and claims that from that day to this he cannot keep a pig alive for more than four weeks because my Martha bewitch them with her books!" the silence that followed his story was interrupted by the arrival of Ezekiel Cheever, another man of the community.

Cheever greeted all present.

"I hope you come not on business of the court," John said warily.

"I do, Proctor, aye. I am a clerk of the court now, y'know." Cheever sounded almost defensive. Another man silently entered the house behind Cheever, Mr. Herrick.

"It's a pity, Ezekiel, that an honest tailor might have gone to Heaven must burn in Hell. You'll burn for this, do you know it?" Corey spat.

"You know yourself I must do as I'm told." Cheever snapped, "You surely know that, Giles. And I'd as lief you'd not be sending me to Hell. I like not the sound of it, I tell you; I like not the sound of it." He turned back to Proctor. "Now believe me, Proctor, how heavy be the law, all its tonnage I do carry on my back tonight. I have a warrant for your wife." He pulled the document from inside his coat.

Proctor turned on me angrily. "You said she were not charged!"

"I know nothin' of it." I said, defensively, "When were she charged?" I asked Cheever.

"I am given sixteen warrant tonight, sir, and she is one." He said dismissively.

"Who charged her?" Proctor demanded.

"Why, Abigail Williams charge her."

"On what proof, what proof?"Proctor asked loudly.

"Mr. Proctor, I have little time. The court bid me search your house, but I like not to search a house. So will you hand me any poppets that your wife may keep here?" _Poppets?_

"Poppets?" Proctor asked.

"I never kept no poppets, not since I were a girl."Goody Proctor said, confused.

"I spy a poppet, Goody Proctor."Ah, the doll sitting on the mantle. She started for it.

"Oh! Why this is Mary's," she explained.

"Would you please give it to me?" Cheever held out his hand and accepted the poppet. I could still see no cause for this. Nor, apparently, could Goody Proctor.

"Has the court discovered a text in poppets now?"She asked.

"Do you keep any others in this house?" Cheever asked instead of answering.

"No, nor this one either till tonight." She replied, "What signifies a poppet?" I myself had no previous knowledge of poppets, and I waited for Cheever's answer.

"Why a poppet- a poppet may signify-" he said evasively, "Now, woman, will you please to come with me?"

"She will not!" Procter said adamantly, "Fetch Mary here."

"No, no, I am forbidden to leave her from my sight." Cheever said, sounding quite afraid, both carrying out his orders, and of not.

"You'll leave her out of sight and out of mind, Mister." Proctor insisted. "Fetch Mary, Elizabeth." Elizabeth disappeared upstairs.

"What signifies a poppet, Mr. Cheever?" I asked, still on tenterhooks with curiosity.

"Why, they say it may signify that she—Why, this, this-"Cheever faltered. He had been examining the poppet while talking, and now seemed to have found something

"What's there?" Proctor asked.

Cheever pulled a needle from deep inside the stomach of the poppet, crying in surprise, "Why—it's a needle! Herrick! Herrick, it is a needle!"

"And what signifies a needle!" Proctor's tone was frustrated now.

"Why, this go hard with her, Proctor, this- I had my doubts, Proctor, I had my doubts, but here's calamity. You see it, sir, it is a needle," Cheever jabbered in excitement.

"Why? What meanin' has it?" I asked.

"The girl, the Williams girl, Abigail Williams, sir. She sat to dinner in Reverend Parris's house tonight, and without word nor warnin' she falls to the floor. Like a struck beast, he says, and screamed a scream that a bull would weep to hear. And he goes to save her, and stuck two inches in the flesh of her belly, he draw a needle out. And demandin' of her how she come to be stabbed she testify it were your wife's familiar pushed it in." It was an alarming story, but similar to the ever increasing ones I had been hearing over the past week and a half. And there did seem to be sufficient proof…

"Why, she done it herself!" Proctor accused, "I hope you're not takin' this for proof, Mister." This was said to me. But I couldn't see why someone would do such a thing to themselves.

"'Tis hard proof!' Cheever shouted, "I find here a poppet Goody Proctor keeps. I have found it, sir. And in the belly of the poppet a needle's stuck." True, but things are not always as they seem, I couldn't help thinking. "I tell you true, Proctor, I never warranted to see such proof of Hell, and I bid you obstruct me not, for I-" But Mr. Cheever was interrupted by the return of Elizabeth, who was dragging Mary Warren along with her.

After several pointed questions, Mary Warren confessed ownership of the doll, and to putting the needle in its belly. I even went so far as to make sure she was not conjured to say so. "Child, you are certain this be your natural memory? May it be, perhaps, that someone conjures you even now to say this?"

"Conjures me? Why, no, sir, I am certainly myself, I think. Let you ask Susanna Walcott- she saw me sewin' it in court…. Ask Abby, Abby sat beside me when I made it." Hmm, I thought, so she saw the poppet being stuck with a needle?

"Bid him begone. " Proctor interrupted my musings, gesturing at Cheever. "Your mind is surely settled now. Bid him out, Mr. Hale."

"What signifies a needle?" Elizabeth asked, though no one answered.

"Mary- you charge a cold and cruel murder on Abigail." I said to the girl, attempting to organize my thoughts. Abigail could have orchestrated all this chaos, by pretending to see witches, and then accuse Goody Proctor specifically –But why?

"Murder! I charge no-" Mary was horrified.

"Abigail were stabbed tonight; a needle were found stuck into her belly-"

"And she charges me?" Elizabeth interjected her voice full of anger and fear.

"Aye."

"Why-!" She exclaimed in breathless shock. "The girl is murder! She must be ripped out of the world!" All blinked in surprise, but no one was more affected by Goody Proctor's words than Cheever.

"You've heard that, sir!" Cheever cried, triumphantly gleeful, pointing at Elizabeth. "Ripped out of the world! Herrick, you heard it!"

Proctor reached his limit here. He lunged at Cheever, snatching the warrant from his hand. "Out with you," he snarled.

"Proctor, you dare not touch the warrant," Cheever warned ineffectually.

Proctor tore the warrant in two and bellowed, "Out with you!"

"You've ripped the Deputy Governor's warrant, man!" Cheever yelled in anger.

"Damn the Deputy Governor!" Proctor roared. "Out of my house!"

"Now, Proctor, Proctor!" I yelled, alarmed.

"'Get y'gone with them! You are a broken minister!"_A what?_

"Proctor," I said, ignoring the insult, "if she is innocent, the court-"

"If _she _is innocent!" He ranted, "Why do you never wonder if Parris be innocent, or Abigail? Is the accuser always holy now? Were they born this morning as clean as G-d's fingers? I'll tell you what's walking Salem- vengeance is walking Salem. We are what we always were in Salem, but now the little crazy children are jangling the keys of the kingdom, and common vengeance writes the law! This warrant's vengeance! I'll not give my wife to vengeance!"

"I'll go John-" Elizabeth said quietly.

"You will not go!" He roared.

"I have nine men outside." Cheever said, "You cannot keep her." He added, apologetically, "The law binds me, John, I cannot budge."

"Will you see here taken?" Proctor turned on me in disgust. What _was_ I to do? Though it made me sick with guilt, I could do nothing to stop the situation. I suddenly knew, as if with Divine inspiration, that Elizabeth Proctor could not be a witch, and never was.

"Proctor," I said as calmly as I could, "the court is just-"

"Pontius Pilate!" He shouted in frustration. "G-d will not let you wash your hands of this!" Somehow, I knew he was right.

"John—"Elizabeth said her voice small and frightened, "I think I must go with them. Mary, there is bread enough for the morning; you will bake, in the afternoon. Help Mr. Proctor as you were his daughter- you owe me that, and much more." She was trying to keep from crying now. "When the children wake, speak nothing of witchcraft-it will frighten them."

"I will bring you home soon." John's voice was low and determined. "I will bring you home soon."

"Oh, John, bring me home soon!" she pleaded.

"I will fall like an ocean on that court! Fear nothing, Elizabeth." He assured her vehemently.

"I will fear nothing" she said tremulously…. Tell the children I have gone to visit someone sick. " After a long look around at her house, she walked outside with Cheever and Herrick. From outside came the sound of chains clinking.

"Herrick!" Proctor screamed, leaping up, "Herrick, don't chain her!" He ran outside. I couldn't see them, dark as it was, but I could clearly hear Proctor's shouts. "Damn you, man, you will not chain her! Off with them! I'll not have it! I will not have her chained!"

"And yet silent, minister? Giles asked me, contemptuously. Ashamed, I could say nothing. He went on, "It is fraud, you know it is fraud! What keeps you man?" And still, Proctors shouts rang in my ears, each one piercing. He was dragged in then by three men.

"I'll pay you, Herrick," Proctor snarled at Herrick, who was one of the men pushing him. "I will surely pay you!"

"In G-d's name, John, I cannot help myself.' Herrick snapped, "I must chain them all. Now let you keep inside this house till I am gone!" Proctor looked mutinous, but he did stay in the house, while Herrick left the house and climbed onto his wagon.

I approached Proctor, hesitantly "Mr. Proctor—"

"Out of my sight!" He growled.

"Charity, Proctor, charity." I said, carefully. I tried to think of something reassuring, but could only think to say, "What I have heard in her favor, I will not fear to testify in court. G-d help me, I cannot judge her guilty or innocent—I know not." Well, not completely, "Only this consider: the world goes mad, and it profit nothing you should lay the cause to the vengeance of a little girl."

"You are a coward!" Proctor said in loathing, "Though you be ordained in G-d's own tears, you are a coward now!"

"Proctor, I cannot think G-d be provoked so grandly by such a petty cause." I exclaimed, "The jails are packed- our greatest judges sit in Salem now- and hangin's promised." I said, trying to impress the seriousness of the situation on him.

"Man, we must look to cause proportionate. Were there murder done, perhaps, and never brought to light? Abomination? Some secret blasphemy that stinks to heaven? Think on cause, man, and let you help me to discover it. For there's your way, believe it, there is your only way, when such confusion strikes upon the world" I looked around at Francis and Giles. "Let you counsel among yourselves; think on your village and what may have drawn from heaven such thundering wrath upon you all. I shall pray G-d open up our eyes." What was Salem hiding? What crime could be so heinous as to bring such madness and destruction upon their heads?

I gave the room a final gaze, taking in Mr. Nurse's desolate look, Giles's bewilderment, Mary Warren's sobbing before coming to rest on Proctor. Was it my imagination or did his face, still pale with fury and shock, show some underlying shame? Was it guilt I read on his face? I stared at Proctor for little more than a second, but it awoke within me a surge of speculation. I turned to the door, and left, closing the door upon the three men, whose lives were now in shreds because of all this madness.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own the Crucible

In case anyone's confused, this takes place much later, at the end of the story.

* * *

Salem, Massachusetts

I stand at the window, staring into the bright daylight. The sun blinds me, but I do not mind, for I would not have seen my surroundings in any case. No, all I would have seen, indeed, all I can see, is the sight I viewed only hours ago, which has been etched into my mind- John Proctor's walk towards the gallows.

Every single death, every hanging in Salem, Massachusetts has changed me. I came to this city, eager to battle with the Devil, ready to fight G-d's fight no matter the consequences. I paid no heed to the people whose lives I ruined then.

Then, but no longer. All their faces pass before my eyes as I stare out into the bright, cold day. Giles Corey, Martha Corey, Rebecca Nurse… John Proctor.

His blood is brightest on my hands. I was there, at his very house when they arrested his wife, when he confessed to lechery to save her, and finally when he died, unconfessed, as a witch. I had developed a respect for the man and, after seeing his drastic transformation from a respected man of Salem to a prisoner, my guilt began to pierce me.

Perhaps I do weep for corruption, as Danforth declared only this morning, but it is for my own, and for the corruption of Salem's honored judges. I pray G-d help us in our Final Judgment, for we have judged others on baseless evidence and have murdered with impunity.

I watch the sun drift behind a cloud, allowing me some sight of what is before me. I see all the results of my misplaced fervor. Even from here, I can see the empty fields, wandering cattle, and the unburied suspects. I would close my eyes but I know that will do no good; I will still see the evidence of our folly. I stare and stare, trying not to think of who owned these fields, or who had herded the cows.

I had wondered why this had happened. I had begged G-d for an explanation. 'Why had I been punished with being the cause of this?' I asked over and over. But that was before this morning. That was before they hanged John Proctor.

Now, no questions scream in my head, no search for meaning arises. My mind has gone blank, numb. It is as white, empty, and blinding as the winter sun that shines down. Perhaps one day we will understand this. Perhaps G-d will show us His master plan behind these tragedies. Perhaps one day I will want to know again.

But now, all I can do is stare into that cold, bright day, acutely aware of what I have done, and remember.

R. Hale


End file.
